Off-Balance
by Selaena
Summary: Draco Malfoy hadn't expected it. He hadn't expected to see Hadara Potter look up at him, her stunningly green eyes still holding traces of amusement for whatever joke Weasel had just told her, and stare at him with open horror. He took a halting step forward, his hand lifting up to reach out to her, he wanted to beg her to stop looking at him like that. FemHarry/DM
1. Chapter 1

Hadara Potter hadn't expected it. She hadn't expected to look up into his face, after getting off the train to start her sixth year, and feel betrayal rip through her with the brutal pain she usually associated with the blood-boiling curse. She actually stumbled to a stop, staring at him in shock. She could see it in his eyes, the entitlement, the victory, the _pride. _Hadara felt a kind of helpless rage she hadn't experienced since she was tied to the gravestone and forced to watch Voldemort come back to life using her blood.

She had worked so damn hard. She wanted to give them a chance. She had seen Pettigrew grovelling and snivelling at Tom's feet, and been disgusted. She didn't want anyone to be subjected to that ever again. The hat had wanted to put her in Slytherin, so she knew there was good in them. She had foolishly thought that if she could become powerful enough, show them that she would protect them, that she would fight for them; then maybe she could help. Maybe she could take some of the torment out of Professor Snape's eyes. She wanted everyone to know that they deserved better then the life of a child soldier and slave, that _no one _ had the right to demand that they bow down.

After Voldemort had returned she had left the quidditch team, used the extra time to study, to train. Hadara had petitioned the ministry of magic for emancipation, and won because she had participated in the Triwizard Tournament that Fudge himself had stated was only those of age. She went toe to toe with the ministry that was slandering her name in the papers so that she could practice magic in the summer, so she could prepare. She had become an animagus before her 15th birthday. She had illegally taught herself how to apparate and make portkeys. She had dropped divination, and picked up ancient runes after finding out she wouldn't be able to break wards without at least a basic understanding.

In her fifth year she had skipped every history of magic, astronomy, and herbology class, not caring if she failed, because those subjects wouldn't help her protect the people she cared about. She used the extra time to duel practice dummies in the room of the requirement, and teaching herself new defensive spells, not even Ron and Hermione together could beat her in a duel now. She got up at 5 am everyday to run around the lake to build her stamina, and practice sneaking around undetected. She spent her nights reviewing all the old newspapers and books from Voldemort's last reign of terror in an effort to better understand his tactics and the first generation death eaters. She had gone to Professor Mcgonagall last year for lessons in how to use transfiguration as a defensive tactic. With Hermione and Ron's help she started the D.A. so that her friends and classmates would be better able to defend themselves, her own skills becoming even more refined in the process. She had gone to Poppy Pomfrey every Sunday and spent the whole day learning In-The-Field-First-Aid, because Merlin knew she would need it at some point. She had finished her 5th year with the top grades in Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, and Runes beating every single one of the Ravenclaws and even Hermione. At the battle at the ministry of magic, when she was brought in to _finally _testify to Voldemort's return, she had gotten into what had been described as "the most vicious, brutal duel ever witnessed, Voldemort and Dumbledore were awe-inspiring, Bellatrix Lestrange and Hadara Potter were terrifying." She had _killed _Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's right hand, his top lieutenant. She still woke up from nightmares about that night, but Hadara thought she had finally proven how far she was willing to go to protect people. She had shown that she wasn't playing around, and that she would kill to protect them. She thought that they might trust her. Hell, even _Snape _treated her with respect now. She was working so _fucking _hard, killing herself with sleepless nights, and brutal training. So that they would know that if they just held on a little longer, gave her just a bit more time to learn and plan then they wouldn't have to sell their freedom. She never took a break, never to took a day off, because they were waiting for her, depending on her to end this before they sold their souls and _fuck. _She had worked so hard, to show that she respected them, respected _him_. Worked to show that she wouldn't turn them away if they had a problem, if they ever needed somewhere to go. No matter what they did, what _he_ did, she never retaliated. She wasn't a push-over, but she never let their dominance games bother her. But, here, standing right in front of her, was proof that people thought that all of her hard work wasn't good enough, that she wasn't good enough. _It was useless, here she was looking in his eyes and she knew that she couldn't do anything and god damn it her magic was wreathing and her eyes felt hot and she was so angry and disappointed and sad and scared and so fucking tired. She wanted to break something. The grief was crashing against her and her magic started to crackle-_

__"Dara?" Hermione's concerned voice brought her back to reality, causing her to tear her eyes away for the staring contest she had unknowingly engaged in with Draco Malfoy.

"Are you alright? Your face just went really pale. Have you not been sleeping again?" Great now Ron was looking at her too.

She couldn't tell them. This was big. Draco Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. Even thinking it made her feel nauseous, and she didn't want to explain why it hurt her so much. Her emotions were jagged and tearing at her insides. She couldn't tell them, she didn't bear to see the fear on their faces before the opening feast even started. So she lied, right to their faces.

"I think I might be getting a cold, I'll go see Pomfrey right when we get to the castle." With that sentence she locked it all up, the grief, the sadness, the fear, the _betrayal, _she shoved it all down and blanked her face, she would deal with it later. For now, she was going to pretend to be a student instead of a child soldier, and ignore the boy who seemed to have joined her on the front lines.

—

Draco Malfoy hadn't expected it. He hadn't expected to see her look up at him, her stunningly green eyes still holding traces of amusement for whatever joke Weasley had just told her, and stare at him with open horror. At first he had thought it was just the usual amount, the type of look most people give Slytherins, even if she had never once directed that look at him before. He had felt his trademark smirk twist his lips, even as the cold disdain entered his eyes. Who was the Gryffindor Golden Girl to judge him? He was a pureblood, a heir to a huge fortune, and he had the top grades in Slytherin, this year he would also be Quidditch Captain. He would not be looked down on! Then other emotions chased themselves across her face, almost too quick for him to decipher. Anger, quick and violent, darkened her eyes by several degrees. Then helplessness? No, Grief. Absolute utter heartbreak.

This couldn't be right, Hadara was always cool and composed, unflappable. Her hadn't seen her show this much emotion in years. She comported herself in a way that he respected, the only Gryffindor that didn't wear her heart on her sleeve. He was usually one of the very few who could tell what she was feeling and that was only because he had known her for years, before she had gotten so good at hiding her thoughts and feelings. Even now, when she was obviously off balance, the other students hadn't noticed her inner turmoil, even Granger and Weasel had yet to realize.

He met her eyes again. Now she looked disappointed? Her shoulders were slumped and her face had paled, she looked hopeless and sad. Her magic practically screamed disappointment and grief, and all of it was directed at him. He tried to think of what he had done that warranted such a reaction from her. No matter what he had said and done in the past she had never looked at him like _that. _She never rose to his taunts, never lashed out in anger, never tormented him, nor did she curse him behind his back. Eventually he had stopped bullying her, the rivalry he had with Gryffindor was now lead by the Weasel. He couldn't help it, none of the Slytherins could.

Last year, after she had left her team, Slytherin had demolished Gryffindor in the first game of the season. He had walked right up to where she was standing with the rest of the Gryffindors planning on rubbing it in their faces. Of course, Hadara never did react like he expected. She had looked up at him, smiled and told him that it had been a great game and that he had played well. At first, he had thought she was mocking him, but he tell she meant it, see the respect in her eyes. Of course, her words had left him speechless and standing like a fool in the middle of the hallway, but that didn't erase the fierce burn of pride at her words. He hated to admit it, but he respected her. She was a fierce duelist, and was absolutely ruthless when people she cared about were threatened, both traits he respected. After the return of the Dark Lord, she had proven to be blindingly intelligent, quickly outstripping everyone in her efforts to better herself, even the insufferable know-it-all Granger. Her opinion mattered to him, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

That's why he couldn't help but be confused by the amount of emotion she was showing him at the moment. What could he have possibly done to have her look at him with so much grief in her eyes? He hadn't even engaged in the usual pissing match with Weasel on the train. In fact, he had avoided her compartment all together. Instead, he had spent the time basking in the glory and respect that the other Slytherins now showered him with. All because of- _NO. She couldn__'__t- there__'__s no way that she could know- _and then he saw it, for the barest of a second her eyes flickered to his left forearm, right where _it _was. He looked back at her in shock. How did she know? It was obvious no one had told her, he could see the surprise in her expression. Their eyes met again, and he didn't understand. All that grief and heartbreak was for him? She looked crushed, like her whole world had just fallen apart.

Granger was talking to her, and she broke eye contact to reply. She looked back at him one more time, her eyes filled with such absolute, utter betrayal that Draco felt like ice had just been dumped down his back. He took a halting step forward, his hand lifting up to reach out to her, he wanted to beg her to stop looking at him like that. Then her face smoothed out, the emotion drained from her face, she was cool and composed once more. She turned and walked away from him. He waited. She didn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone,**

** I just wanted to say thanks for giving my story a chance. I realize there were quite a few mistakes in the first chapter, and would like to plead with anyone interested in becoming a Beta to please please contact me. I keep missing things and would like to make my story more enjoyable for everyone. Also, I****'****m very interested in constructive criticism, and if anyone has any suggestions or comments I would love to hear from you.**

**Enjoy,**

**Selaena**

—

She wasn't here. Draco scanned the Gryffindor table one more time, just to _triple_ check. She was not there. She was not sitting beside her stupid little Gryffindor friends, and she was not sitting at the end of the table to greet the new first years. She was not in the Great Hall at all. He felt a twisting in his stomach. Even Hadara couldn't manage to be attacked between the walk from the carriages to the school. The very thought was completely ridiculous, there's no way she'd managed to land herself in the hospital wing already. Draco's foot began to tap nervously under the table. _She's fine, Hadara is perfectly capable of handling herself, she took down Bellatrix Lestrange for fucks sake. _Not that he cared what happened to Hadara Potter, _at all. _His foot tapped faster.

He wanted this feast to be over. Then he could go torment the Weasel. Draco already had it all planned out. He would taunt him about not being able to protect Hadara. Then the Weasel would predictably blurt out what would had happened in his own defence. A quick and easy way to gather information. If only the damn feast would _end. _

Draco glanced towards the head table. Dumbledore was in the middle of his customary speech. Filled with the usual bullshit of house unity and 'standing together". Complete nonsense if you asked him. As if he would ever trust any of those fools, he didn't even trust Pansy, and they'd been friends since birth. His eyes glided over to the Gryffindor table once more.

The clinking of forks announced the arrival of the food, Draco absentmindedly piled some onto his plate, as Pansy began to talk his ear off about her summer. He paid her no mind, maybe last year he would have humoured her, but this year he had more important things to think about- namely how Hadara would react when they finally came face to face. He would have to catch her alone, so that no one could overhear something they shouldn't. The trouble was that Hadara was renowned for impossible to locate should she not wish to be found. It was rumoured that she knew the secret passages better than the Headmaster.

Draco started eating his food at a faster pace, as if the sooner he finished the sooner the feast would end, and he could get rid of the damn squirming in his stomach.

The longer Draco had to sit and wait, the more his mind drifted back to the look on Hadara's face. His whole leg was practically bouncing now.

He snuck another quick peak at the Gryffindor table. This time to study Weasel and Granger. They didn't appear to be especially worried, but their eyes drifted to the front doors as often as Draco's did.

The Headmaster called attention back to the front of the room. The old fool waved the food away with a flick of his wand, and then preceded to waste more time by muttering some completely useless words. _Barmy old codger._

When they were _finally _dismissed, Draco walked quickly from the Slytherin table_, _in order to head off Weasley at the door.

"Oi! Bucktooth!" Targeting Granger was the fastest way to get Weasley to react. "Where's Potter? Did she finally realize how insufferable you are and abandon you? Can't say I blame her, I can smell your stench all the way from the Slytherin-"

"Dara didn't abandon us Ferret Head!" Weasel shouted right in his face, the tips of his ears turning a brilliant red. Draco smirked internally, Weasley was so predictable. "She's in the hospital wing." Draco's heart stopped. So she had gotten attacked? By who? He hadn't known anything about that, how was it possible that she was injured already. He was going to- "She has a cold."

"A cold." He didn't even have to fake the sneering disbelief in his voice. There was no way that Hadara had a cold, and even if she did theres no easy she would have missed the Opening Feast for a cold. This was the girl who'd been crucioed for so long she couldn't stand up, and yet had still managed to shift to her animagus form and permanently blind the Dark Lord in his left eye. He couldn't believe that Hadara hung around these idiots, no wonder she was so quiet all the time.

"Weasley!" The stern voice of Professor Snape sounded. "You're blocking the exit! 15 points from Gryffindor!" Draco and the rest of the Slytherin's snickered, even as Draco's mind raced a mile a minute trying to figure out what would cause Hadara Potter to leave her two best friends within minutes of entering the school. He wanted to talk to her. He didn't know what he would say yet, but it would have something to do with her looking at him with such disdain. He glanced at Professor Snape, wondering if he knew where she was. Another thought occurred to him. Should he tell Snape that he thought that Hadara knew he had been Marked? No, Snape would tell _him, _and then his mother would get hurt. No. He would talk to Hadara and find a way to get her to keep her mouth shut, right after he figured out where she disappeared to.

—

Hadara sprung out of the carriage, a feeling of restlessness already surging through her. There was no way she was going to the Opening Feast. Luckily, she had already made the excuse to Ron and Hermione- she was going to see Pomfrey about her 'cold'.

"I'll see you guys in the common room."

"Dara! What, wait-" Ron's comment was too late, she had already leapt up the stairs with her usual catlike grace, disappearing into the crowd of students heading towards the Great Hall. Keeping her head down to avoid undue attention, she strategically manoeuvred herself to the edge of the crowd. If she could just get a little further she would be able to disappear into one of the passages of Salazar, ensuring no-one but Lord Voldemort himself could follow her.

She looked up to meet Professors Snape's confused and curious gaze just before the she slipped into the passage. Making sure to keep her face blank, she gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement before shutting the door behind her. Hadara took one breath to centre herself, one breath to let herself adjust to the darkness, and then she _ran. _She bolted through hidden corridors and sprung up the stairs, moving at a speed that would have horrified Mcgonagall.

She just had to make it to the room of requirement, where no one would find her. Then she could let herself think about the fact that Draco- that he had- he was- Hadara ran faster.

The door to the room of requirement slammed shut behind her, creating an eery echo to accompany her harsh gasps. She was afraid to look up, afraid to see what the room thought she most required. She had her eyes scrunched shut, as if that would block out everything. Block out the fact the Draco Malfoy was a _Death Eater. _That Draco had become a member of a group that was actively trying to kill her. Though she had never seen it, Hadara knew exactly how the Dark Mark would look on his alabaster skin, she'd had nightmares about it after all. Hadara felt tears sting her eyes. _How dare he?_ She wasn't sure wether she was referring to Voldemort or Draco, but at this point she didn't care. The whole situation made her so _angry. _Hadara's head snapped up in defiance, she wasn't going to let Draco fucking Malfoy make her afraid.

Slowly, she took stock of the room, pivoting on her heal in disbelief. The room was filled with glass? Vases, cups, plates, everything delicate and breakable. She felt confusion rush through her, what was she supposed to do with- _Oh. _A broken sort of laugh escaped her, as she walked up to a pedestal which held a beautiful blown glass bowl. She reached out and picked it up, moving as if in slow motion. The anger was back, dark and hot, it burned through her veins with a ferocity that was almost frightening. She spun and threw the bowl with all of her might at the door behind her. It shattered into a million little pieces, the shards tinkling as they hit the floor. Another laugh escaped her, sounding more like a sob, as she picked up a beautiful glass figurine. _Crash! Slam! _She whirled through the room, kicking and throwing and smashing. The shattering of the glass bringing her a vicious satisfaction.

_Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. She was so stupid. _

Hadara didn't notice she was crying until she paused to breathe, and realized it was difficult to get air around the knot in her throat. Her breath coming in ragged gasps that sounded painful.

Hadara hadn't cried in years. She hadn't cried when Hermione was petrified. She hadn't cried when she found out that Sirius was innocent and she had family after all. She hadn't even cried when Voldemort came back, she had stayed strong, spat back at the bastards face in defiance. Yet, here she was, sobbing alone on her knees because of a boy, and for Draco Malfoy no less. It might have been funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

She didn't know why it had come as such a shock to her. It's not like she shouldn't have expected it. His father was Lucius Malfoy! Of course his son would be a Death Eater. It was an assumed fact of life. But, somehow through all her walls of distrust and paranoia she had trusted him, Draco Malfoy, to be strong enough to stand against Voldemort. To refuse to bow down to a madman with delusions of grandeur. Draco was always preaching about his own prowess and superiority, she had expected like a _fool_, that he would believe himself better than that. Licking a murderer's shoes. She felt so betrayed. Like he had been lying to her all this time. He had made her no promises, was never kind to her friends, and somehow she had trusted. Had believed he was who he portrayed himself to be; a boy who was becoming a man, a man who had pride and plenty of self-respect to spare. It was all right though, she understood now, he had proven her wrong, had shown her how badly she had misjudged him. He thought he was _so _important because he had been chosen to do the dirty work of a psychopath. Agreed to be someone's dog, and it broke her heart.

Her weeping reached a crescendo, joining the tinkling of glass as her magic reached out and whipped the shards around her body in her own personal tornado. She curled around her stomach, pressing her forehead to the floor. Shaking her head in denial that those broken, wounded noises were coming from her.

For a brief moment she considered forcing herself to pull it together, to be the tough girl everyone thought her to be. _Just a little longer, _she still had lots of time before the Opening Feast was over. Hadara decided that she was going to give herself this time. Time to sob brokenly over Draco Malfoy. And when it was over, she was going to she walk out of this room and act like it never happened. Act like the fact that he chose that monster over her didn't tear her to pieces. But until then, she was going to sit on the floor and cry.

—**Simply out of curiosity, which point of view do you guys prefer? Hadara's or Draco's?**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Hadara slowly stalked down the corridor, using her animagus hearing to make sure that she didn't run into anyone. She was going to the headmasters office. No matter how much she wished that things were different, the fact of the matter was that Draco had chosen his side, and it wasn't hers. She needed to do what was best for the war, regardless of her personal feelings. She would talk to Dumbledore and they could decide what to do. Maybe Draco hadn't done anything irreversible yet, and they could get him off with community service.

Although she couldn't imagine that Dumbledore was unaware of the situation, and seeing how Draco was still walking around, Hadara was just going to go ahead and assume that there was a plan she was not privy too. But she was damn well going to have it explained to her by the end of the night. She was tired of being left out with no information, and then expected to keep standing after being continuously blindsided. She was going to march into Dumbledore's office and demand to be told what was going on. She had earned the right to be involved.

She rounded the corner leading to the headmasters office, and looked up to see Professor Dumbledore himself peering down at her from over his half-moon spectacles.

"Ah Hadara, out for a late night walk already?" Dumbledore's voice was filled with amusement, and there was a curious twinkle to his eye. " You know, out of all the students I have ever had, you are the only student that has managed to miss more Opening Feasts than those you have attended." Again Dumbledore's voice was the epitome of amusement and whimsical reminiscing, but his eyes held traces of worry.

Gesturing to his office, he continued, " Mr. Weasley tells me you have a cold?"

Hadara considered her options and decided that she didn't feel like going through social niceties right now.

"I have something important to discuss with you." Most people wouldn't have noticed it, but Hadara had gotten rather good at reading Dumbledore's body language over the last couple of years, and she caught the slight pause in his step as he continued into his office. Something was definitely going on.

"Why don't you take a seat and we can discuss it over tea?" It wasn't really a question, although Dumbledore framed it like one. It took her a moment to realize why, Dumbledore wasn't certain she would obey him. She wasn't sure if she felt guilty or not for that.

Hadara made sure to pick a chair that allowed her to see both the window and the door, while also allowing her to have her back to the wall. A spatial awareness and paranoia that had become habit to her over the course of the last two years.

She reached for her teacup as Dumbledore settled into his seat across from her. Trying to decide what to say. She didn't know how to start. So she settled for staring hard into her teacup, while waiting for Dumbledore to make the first move.

One minute passed, then two, and still Hadara kept her silence. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and she looked up to see him studying her. Concern now clear in his features. He opened his mouth as if about to speak, when this office doors slammed open and Snape swept into the room.

Snape's reaction to her presence was amusing. He came to a full stop, and blinked at her owlishly.

"I apologize for interrupting I wasn't aware that you had company."

"Quite all right Severus. I shall be with you in just a moment, Hadara was just about to tell me-"

" Actually Professor, would you take a seat? I would like your opinion as well." If she thought that Professor Dumbledore had been confused before it was nothing compared to the flabbergasted expression he displayed now. He was staring at her with complete open-mouthed amazement. Snape, of course, had already composed himself, and taken a seat next to Hadara. Dumbledore knew that she and Snape had reached some sort of accord, but he seemed surprised at their civility towards one another. It only took Dumbledore a split second to regain his footing and direct towards her a beaming smile of delight.

"I'm so glad that you are comfortable with confiding in Professor Snape as you would me, Hadara. Please feel free to speak with him whenever I am not around." Hadara felt Snape tense beside her. Dumbledores eyes held hidden melancholy, as if he believed he would not be available to her much longer. Hadara stilled, trying to find what was so out of place, that could make both men react in such away. Professor Dumbledore looked fine to her, and he hadn't been limping or moving at a slower pace then usual when they came up the stairs. Yet, something was definitely wrong. He was wearing the same colourful robes as always, wand hand causally holding his teacup. That was it, Professor Dumbledore was holding his teacup with his right hand, he had always held it in his left hand before, so that he could hold both wand and teacup at the same time when necessary. His sleeve was suspiciously covering the entirety of his left hand.

The question left her lips before she had fully thought it through, full of suspicious accusation. " Whats wrong with your hand?"

"Oh this? I had a little mishap. I assure you that I feel perfectly fine. Professor Snape is taking care of it for me." At this Dumbledore turned to smile gratefully at Snape, who glared back at him. Dots connected in her head.

"You _feel _perfectly fine. Or you _are _perfectly fine?" Her voice was hard as she pinned a steely eyed gaze on her headmaster. And again she saw the barest hesitation in his answer.

"I'm not going anywhere just yet Hadara," benign smile, "now why don't we discuss-"

" Let me see." Her voice brooked no room for argument, as she stood up and strode over to Dumbledore's chair.

Dumbledore looked about to protest again, until he met her in the eyes, and with a little sigh, he flipped back his sleeve. Hadara didn't recoil. She didn't allow the shock to show on her face as she stared at the dark blackened hand that was presented to her. Instead she ran her finger gently over the dead skin and pulled out her wand to begin the diagnostic spells that Pomfrey had taught her.

"Hadara,' Dumbledore began, "that's not necessary. Severus has already done all the required treatments, there is no need to get so worked up."

Oh, now she was mad _and _suspicious. There was no way this was healed, it practically reeked of the dark magic that was obviously festering beneath his skin.

Her reply was downright icy, "Professor Snape, was this wound inflicted by poison?" Her and Professor Snape made eye contact, an unspoken message and plea passed between them.

"No, Miss Potter. It was a curse."

"Hadara, Professor Snape has lots of experience when dealing with dark magic. I am in the best of hands."

Now her voiced descended into the kind of false sweetness that was previously employed by Dolores Umbridge. "Professor Snape, have you ever taken an official healing class or been instructed by a healer specifically about wounds created through dark magic?"

Snape's voice held a tone of dark amusement as he replied, "No Potter, I don't believe I have."

"Well then, I believe we have that all settled," Hadara then preceded to completely ignore Dumbledores continuing protests, by casting her spells, while Snape lounged in the corner.

_What the hell. _This was one of the darkest curses she had ever seen in her life, and she had seen quite a few.

"This is a life threatening curse that has yet to be deactivated." Her voice had gone utterly toneless at this point. She heard no exclamations of surprise for either of the men in the room. 

"I see." There was no emotion in her voice. Dumbledore flinched.

The magic was not only festering beneath his skin but also continuing onward, creeping towards the man's heart, decaying everything in its path. She had never seen anything like it, yet it was undoubtably familiar. Of course, Voldemort's signature was all over it, but there was something else, something just on the tip of her tongue. She cast the diagnostic spell again, the one that allowed her to _see _themagic swirling around and through his arm. The movements of the magic were familiar, the dark strands swayingly hypnotic_. _It reminded her of a snake about to strike. _Son of a- _It was Parselmagic. She sat down, her thoughts flying, she didn't know if she could undo this. She wasn't very well versed in Parselmagic yet.

Last year she'd had gone back done to the Chamber of Secrets to harvest the basilisk, and had found a secret library of books written in parselscript. Of course, when she had tried to remove the books from the underground cavern, she found she could not step out the door. The books would remain underground. She had not let that stop her from reading them. This was obviously were Voldemort had learned some of his more dangerous magics, and she had access to the books that contained all of the counter-curses. She had informed no one of her discovery. Not even Ron and Hermione knew, it was the ace up her sleeve. Hadara glanced at Dumbledore's arm again. She vaguely remembered a curse that described affects like that, the symptoms were very distinctive. But it wasn't the type of curse that could be used in a duel. It was the type of curse that ate one's life force slowly and painfully, dragging it out for months. Not only was it a terrible way to die, but the incantation was long and complicated, as well as relatively easy to shield. There was no way that Dumbledore had goo ten it in a duel, which meant he had to have contracted the curse somewhere else. She sighed, _more secrets._

"Were you cursed by an inanimate object?", Hadara had voiced her theory in a tone of one exploring academic pursuits, and Snape's head whipped towards her.

"You recognize it?" He couldn't quite hide the hope in his voice.

"Yes, I was. How did you know?" Dumbledore if possible, looked even more shocked then when she had civilly asked Snape to join them for their late night tea. But Hadara couldn't enjoy the victory of making Dumbledore lose face twice in one night. She had delved deep into her occulumency just like Snape had taught her, trying to bring up the specific memory of herself reading the exact page about this curse.

_Counter-curse, counter-curse, counter-curse._Hadara paused,She could see the library in her minds eye. Rapidly she flicked through the titles she knew where there. The book had had a dark red cover, like dried blood. Her memory self opened the book quickly turning the pages.

_There. _The Black Death, how original. Reviewing the counter-curse, Hadara realized that only Voldemort would be such a bastard, the counter-curse was long and complex. It also could only be vocalized in parseltongue. Hadara paused, if she got this wrong Dumbledore would die. If even a single word was mispronounced or forgotten then the curse would react and go straight for his heart. Well, she just wouldn't allow herself to make any mistakes then.

Without permeable or warning she grabbed Dumbledore's arm, and began to chant in parseltongue, her wand moving in tandem with her words. Already, she could feel the curse fighting against her, lashing out at her magic and clinging to Dumbledores. The dark magic stopped swaying and clenched on Dumbledore's arm, tightening convulsively, Hadara vaguely heard the headmaster's gasp of pain. As she watched, the darkness in Dumbledore's arm began to recede at a painstakingly slow pace.

It had now reached his elbow, and she was mildly aware of Snape's pale face hovering over her, he seemed to be trying to tell her something. It felt like she was underwater, with nothing but the push and pull of her magic reaching her ears. The more she compressed the curse to the bottom of Dumbledore's arm the harder it fought her. It had now reached his wrist, and sweat had started to drip down her back, and into her eyes. She grit her teeth. Her skin felt too tight, and she was sure her hands were shaking. Hadara _hated _feeling weak and vulnerable, stupid bloody curse, bloody dastardly Voldemort. Hadara willed her emotions into the spell, her wand sparking dangerously in response to the black magic still clinging to the headmaster. The decay was now at the edge of his finger tips, making it look like he had dipped them in ink. Her voice was becoming hoarse, and her words had begun to slur. Almost- 

"DONE!"- with that exclamation Hadara flopped back on the floor, and stared at the ceiling as she waited for the room to stop spinning.

Complete silence. Hadara's eyes drifted shut. That had taken way more energy then she anticipated. She contemplated the merits of sleeping on the floor. It didn't seem like such a bad idea, it want like she hadn't slept in worse places. Although it was a little cold, perhaps she could crawl over to the fireplace?

A shoe nudged her ribcage. She deigned to open one eye-lid, to glare at Snape, who seemed to be staring at her in fascination.

Dumbledore appeared to have gone into shock, staring blankly at his once again healthy arm, as if he couldn't quite believe the new turn of events. Hadara, too tired to wait for him to come out of it on his own, swiped a scone off the tea tray, drew back her arm, and chucked it at the headmaster. It hit him dead in the forehead.

"That's for not telling me you were dying."

Snape stared at her for a minute before breaking into hysterical laughter, while Hadara watched on in bemusement from her collapsed position on the floor.

It took two doses of Snape's pepper-up potion before Hadara was able to stand on her own, although the room was still swaying dangerously. Hadara decided to make the executive decision to leave the talk of Draco Malfoy for another day, she was to tired to deal with it now.

She would do it tomorrow, she promised herself as she stumbled down the stairs from Dumbledore's office, leaning against the wall for support. The pepper-up potions hadn't done as much good as she thought. She felt as weak as a kitten.

Black dots began to dance on the edges of her vision, as she felt her legs give out. She barely had time to swear before arms reached out and caught her, pulling her up against a broad muscled chest.

—

_**Hey Guys, **_

_** I'm sorry it took me so long to post, school hit me like a brick to the face, and i haven't had a spare moment since. Well, I hoped you liked this chapter, and if any of you guys have any ideas or suggestions i would love to hear them. **_


End file.
